To Circumambulate

I love to wander the city.

New neighborhoods hold a wealth of sights to absorb. Areas I have traveled before hold a level of detail I have yet to discover. There's always sidestreets and alleyways that have yet to be traversed, and tend to contain the best nuances of all.

And then there's the buildings.

How many hundreds of thousands of buildings can one pass in a city street during an average commute? So many structures will only be appreciated for their external aesthetic-- save for a fleeting glance in a window, aided by the right lighting and a set of blinds inadvertently left open.

The amount of space that will go unnoticed by the masses is absolutely mind numbing. Private residences from modest to upscale to downright dirty or abandoned. Storefronts of shops that you have no interest in ever visiting. Businesses that people go to work at every single day, housing some activity that keeps the gears of capitalism turning. Enigmatic buildings that seem to house some sort of actions-- be it commercial, industrial, or otherwise-- but never reveal their true function. Ninety- nice nine point nine percent of it all will go unseen as you go about your daily routine and keep your eyes focused forward.

That's what my wandering tendencies try to rectify.

On my lunch break I stepped out into the heat and humidity to pound the pavement around my office's neighborhood. I've seen the perimeter blocks many times, so I kept moving North and West where it becomes much more industrial. More and more of the buildings start to become actual warehouses and not quater-million dollar loft-condo conversions. The criss cross of train tracks breaks up the streets and causes 18-wheelers to bounce around as they drive-by. The smell of rotting food products (chicken? vegetables? all-of-the-above?) permeates the air and then dissipates a few feet later.

And then I come across a really interesting building.

It's probably your stock-fare loft-office conversion, albeit tucked away a littler further than it's trendier "West Loop Gate" peers. What sets him apart is that his doors are open. A push of the door and a tap of the elevator buttons and I am traveling to the fourth floor.

The doors pop open and there I am, stepping into the waiting room of a completely beautiful office-studio of some sort. At first apprehension overwhelms me-- Should I really be in here? Will someone ask if they can help me? Will I have to make up some story as to what I'm doing? Nope, there's no one here-- so I start to look through the glass into the main space. It's a completely photo-perfect loft for an ad-agency or design firm. Wood veneered walls with inset flat-screen monitors give a warm, but techy feel. Modern desks house a few Macs, and the gratuitous use of glass gives it all a contemporary feel. The floors are a tinted cement and the wood timbers and beams are exposed and raw, yet at the same time quite refined. Off in the corner I see an amazing modular kitchen area, with plentiful stainless steel and black glass. In another corner I can start to make out a photo studio of some sort. I glance to my right into a very stylish meeting room, and that's when I notice a shaved head bent over reading a report of some sort-- time to go.

I descend the elevator (and of course stop by the enormous empty loft space on the 3rd floor) and head back on to the street and back to work. The exit back into 'public space' feels a lot like backing out of a deep directory structure-- moving out of the specific space I was in, and back into the known, the often traveled, and the everyday. It's all a reminder to me that this city is full of creative possibilities and opportunities, all tucked into dynamic spaces where you might least suspect them. The opportunity to experience a new outlet for creative production is always stationed at the intersection of the right time and the right place. It's just a matter of finding those cross-roads.

Maybe the best way is to wander.

  8/03/2004